Ad Meliora
by Starry Pink
Summary: Chapter 3: "He is not harmless!" the red-haired man insisted. "He's looking at me like he wants to eat me!" A collection of stories written for the prompts on FMA Fic Contest on LJ .
1. A Lesson Learned

**AN: **Any chapters in this story were originally written for the FMA Fic Contest on LiveJournal, unless otherwise noted. This first one is based off a 4koma, so there might be possible spoilers.

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**Prompt #62~Quiver: A Lesson Learned**

"Lieutenant, how old are you?" Ed asks.

The office becomes deathly silent the moment those words leave Ed's lips. It seems like a perfectly innocent question, but he quickly realizes just how wrong he really is when he sees the expression of pure horror on Lieutenant Hawkeye's face.

"_Damn it! She must be sensitive about her age!"_ Ed realizes as the color completely drains from his face. Beads of sweat begin to run down his skin, and his heart thumps vigorously against his chest.

"Hurry up and run away!" Colonel Mustang shouts as he cowers behind his desk.

Unfortunately, Ed's legs refuse to cooperate, and he's unable to move. He clenches his hands shut when they begin to shake.

For one agonizingly long minute nothing happens. The silence is suffocating and the fear is palpable.

Then Lieutenant Hawkeye's expression unexpectedly reverts back to normal. Ed can't tell if that's good or bad. He gulps nervously.

"I'm going to pretend you never asked me that, Edward," Lieutenant Hawkeye says softly with only a tinge of anger in her voice. She gathers a stack of reports in her arms and heads out of the room.

The door slams shut behind her, and Ed heaves a sigh of relief.

Mustang extracts himself from his hiding place, crosses his arms, and glowers at the young alchemist. Ed merely offers him an apologetic look. How could he have known that the Lieutenant is so sensitive about her age?

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**AN: **Reviews would be loved!

The title "Ad Meliora" is Latin for "toward better things". It seems fitting to me because most of the characters in FMA are striving for something better, e.g: a better future, a better life, etc.


	2. A Slave to Addiction

**AN:** Please leave a review.

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**Prompt #63~Weakness: A Slave to Addiction**

It was torture, pure and simple. The enemy was trying to break him, and he didn't think he'd be able to last much longer. His resolve was barely hanging by a thread, and the fibers were unraveling, threatening to break at any moment.

A pained groan escaped his lips when his eyes landed on a small, rectangular object sitting on the desk across from him. How dare the Colonel taunt him by placing his own cigarettes right in plain sight!

"Is something the matter, Havoc?" Roy asked, doing his best to restrain a smug grin.

"No sir. Nothing at all," the disgruntled Lieutenant lied through gritted teeth. He wouldn't give his boss the satisfaction of knowing how horribly he was suffering.

"Then get back to work."

"Yes sir," Havoc complied and grudgingly tore his gaze away from the pack of cigarettes at which he'd been staring so longingly. He tried to focus on the stack of paperwork in front him, but his mind wouldn't allow him to concentrate on anything other than cigarettes. He was really beginning to wish that he had never allowed the Colonel to goad him into accepting such a ridiculous bet- a whole week without smoking. Havoc had initially laughed at the idea, but a week off from work in exchange for a week without smoking was far too tempting to pass up.

However, only two days in he was already beginning to feel the cruel and almost painful effects of withdrawal, and Mustang wasn't making it any easier for him. He could feel the Colonel's gaze on him, eyes alight with laughter as he watched his loyal subordinate's wall of defense gradually crumble into a pile of rubble. If he didn't do something soon to take his mind off cigarettes he would surely have a meltdown.

In a fit of frustration he slammed his pen onto his desk-nearly breaking the writing utensil-and leapt on to his feet.

"I'm taking a break!" he declared loudly and rushed out of the room before anyone had a chance to respond to his sudden outburst. He ran down to the cafeteria and grabbed a tray full of food, but the tasty morsels did little to alleviate his desire for his beloved cancer sticks. Feeling depressed, he trudged back to the office- his head hung low and shoulders slumped- only to discover it was empty. Suddenly, an idea struck him; the pack of cigarettes on the Colonel's desk was completely unguarded and there was nobody in the room. A sly grin crept onto his face. Surely the Colonel wouldn't notice if he took just one.

With a cigarette triumphantly in hand he lit up by an open window and puffed greedily, allowing the sweet, intoxicating scent to invade his senses until a loud "a-ha" resonated throughout the room. He knew he was caught and would now have to pay the price for his fragility, but it was definitely worth it for a few moments of pure and utter bliss.


	3. Hunger Pains

**A/N:** This is the first time I've written Breda, so please let me know if he's OOC or not.

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**Hunger Pains**

**(Prompt #65:"Oh, hell.")  
**

Breda groaned as he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his abdomen. He was so damn hungry he could hardly concentrate on his work, and it was due in less than an hour. He needed to eat something in order to regain his energy and to quell his grumbling stomach, so he reached into his desk drawer and retrieved the sandwich he'd made that morning before coming in to work. Breda unwrapped the sandwich and was about to take a bite when he heard a whining sound. He looked down beside his desk and shrieked in terror when he saw Black Hayate (a particularly ferocious-looking beast in his opinion) hungrily eying his sandwich.

"Go away!" Breda screeched as he inched away in his chair from the small, yet frightening creature as he clutched his sandwich in one hand.

"Honestly, Breda," Colonel Mustang chided him as he looked up from his paperwork, "you ought to be ashamed of yourself. You're a grown man and you're scared of a harmless, little dog."

"He is _not _harmless!" the red-haired man insisted. "He's looking at me like he wants to eat me!"

"You're paranoid."

"I am not!"

Hayate questioningly tilted his furry head. He didn't understand why the large man was yelling or why he was so scared. All he understood was that he wanted a piece of that very delicious-looking sandwich.

Breda's face contorted in horror as Hayate launched himself onto his lap, causing him to topple backwards on to the floor. The sandwich was released from the man's grip, providing the hungry pup with the perfect opportunity to take a large bite out of it.

"No, not my sandwich!" Breda cried as he lunged for the dog, but Hayate was too fast for him and easily avoided his grasp. Breda scrambled on to his feet (as quickly as his large bulk would allow him to) and attempted to chase after the little mongrel, but he tripped and banged his head on the side of his desk, then fell flat on the floor.

"Oh, hell," he muttered as he gently rubbed the sore spot on his head. He could already feel it beginning to swell. Breda pushed himself up onto his forearms, only to come face-to-face with the object of his rage (namely Black Hayate with a piece of lunch meat dangling from his mouth). He was certain that the mutt was deliberately taunting him.

"Pick yourself up off the floor, Lieutenant," Roy ordered. "You look like a fool."

"Damn dog," Breda growled as he stood up. His head was starting to throb, but even more painful was his still-grumbling stomach.

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**A/N:** Reviews would be loved!


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